


Travelling in Foreign Lands

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [53]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-12 04:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: In which the plantlife of Mirkwood, an Elven Prince, and the general ignorance of those living beyond its borders of the dangers of living in the Woodland Realm collide with a stubborn guard and a shy harpist... And more than one life is changed in the process.The followup to my other story"Wild Beauty and Gentle Strings"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Innin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innin/gifts).



> This is connected to my other story ["Wild Beauty and Gentle Strings"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998741)
> 
> Written for Smutswap - thank you Innin for giving me a prompt that fit these two so perfectly even if it wasn't what I'd originally planned for their story... ;)

The delegation from Imladris came in early summer, when the Low Pass was freely traversable.

Tauriel’s group had been selected to accompany the Prince’s, meeting the illustrious guests at the edge of the Forest.

She was nervous.

Not so much about the task, or the approval of her superiors that her selection for it implied.

Tauriel was nervous because talk in the caverns would have it that Master Elrond was bringing along a retinue of Elves – and among them musicians – which meant there was a good chance that the harpist she had met on her first trip to the Hidden Valley almost a decade ago would be in the party.

The same harpist whose long nimble fingers and shy smiles continued to appear in her dreams, the one whose face had replaced the ellon she took to her bed during the last Spring Festival, bringing her to a shuddering climax that Tauriel had tried very hard to forget with copious amounts of ineffective alcohol.

 _That_ harpist.

The sweet Lírien.

“You are far away in your mind, my friend,” Legolas muttered, walking close enough no one else would hear the words.

Tauriel flushed.

“Simply anxious for our task to go well,” she answered him, knowing he’d see through the charade but probably let her keep her dignity by ignoring it.

“As are we all,” Legolas replied, “after all, it has been long-years since Master Elrond last visited these trees – but Adar would not have chosen you for the task if he did not feel you would do him proud.” Wrapping his hand around her forearm, Legolas squeezed gently, his silent support making Tauriel’s breathing ease slightly.

“As you say, Legolas,” she offered, nodding her head to him in gratitude. Legolas gave her one last calming smile before his attention was stolen by one of his own group-members calling for their captain.

 _I shall be fine._ Tauriel shook herself, straightening her posture and falling into the role she had carved for herself through long years of hard work, her watchful eyes roaming the forest around them in case of threats. Orcs usually did not manage to get far beyond the edge of the forest but some of them tried every year nonetheless; if the Forest’s magicks – Thranduil’s spellwork lay heavy over the northern and western parts of their lands – did not do them in, Tauriel would be ready to dispatch any enemy that tried the borders.

 

* * *

 

 

Leaving the Misty Mountains was a weight off her shoulders, Lírien felt, as though the steep sides of the canyon they had walked through had been pressing down on her. The open sky suited her spirit better, though the line of green trees on the horizon was what truly calmed her nerves. They would be met by an escort of King Thranduil’s finest warriors, Steward Erestor had informed them, and that went some way to be calming, even if several renowned warriors – among them Master Elrond himself, looking splendid in his armour – had accompanied them from Imladris. It was not that she had felt unsafe, but crossing the Mountains was something she had never dreamed she would brave – particularly after what happened to the Lady Celebrían and her guards.

 _I miss you, Ada_.

 

* * *

 

“I see them,” Faindirn announced, leaping lithely from his tree. “A score Elves, ten horses, and a couple of pack mules.”

“We’ll need to take the North Pine Path, then,” Tauriel decided. “Their horses are not as nimble as our elk mounts.”

“Erfaron and Faindirn, you’ll be scouting north of the path,” Legolas added, sketching the path in the dirt before him. “Tuilinthel and Arastor will take care of the southern stretch – meet up before the Heart Grove.”

“I want overlapping scouts,” Tauriel ordered her own people, “Gurther, you and Canrion take point with Hêr.” Her three scouts nodded, and the groups split off easily, the assigned members melting into the surrounding woodlands with their supplies as though they had never been along.

Tauriel felt a flicker of pride at the sight, lifting her spirits as they waited for their guests to arrive.

 

 

Lírien kept her face well hidden beneath the hood of her sky-blue cloak, but she still noted the brilliant copper hair of the beautiful Guard-Lieutenant, shining in a small patch of sunlight.

 _Tauriel_.

She was just as pretty as Lírien remembered, though she seemed far more at ease here than when she had visited Imladris escorting the Prince who was laughing at some joke of Elladan’s. Confident and more graceful, too, and Lírien wanted to taste that sharp-happy smile.

The desire surprised her, making her duck her head to hide her cheeks as introductions finished and they set off once more.

Lírien did her best not to look at Tauriel, fearing that her rekindled infatuation would show too plainly on her face if she did.

Instead, she looked around, drawing no notice to herself as she looked at the trees surrounding them, long slender birches with their silvery leaves. The trees felt welcoming to her, the green foliage playful in the breeze, dappling shadows on her cloak.

Lírien smiled. The plants here were strange but she rather liked the Green Forest – certainly it lived up to its name – taking joy in studying the various small flowers as they walked along. Guard-Lieutenant Tauriel was walking behind her somewhere, taking the position of rear-guard, and if her presence made Lírien’s hips sway a little extra with each step that was for her to know and Lindir to guess at and smirk about.

 

 

They were making good time, Tauriel knew, and still she had a sense of foreboding about this journey that even the sight of Lírien looking even lovelier than the visions that visited her dreams could quell.

Camping by a convenient stream that night, she kept an eye on the harpist as often as she could, wishing she could summon up her vaunted courage and speak to her, feel those warm silver-grey eyes warm her skin with their gaze. Of course, it seemed every one of her guards needed her attention every time she mustered just enough to begin moving in Lírien’s direction, distracting her from her purpose.

The harpist had been exclaiming in delight about the flowers of the woods all day, utterly charmed by the tiny anemones and the climbing flowery vines they’d passed. Tauriel felt charmed by her enthusiasm for her home, a small pool of warmth in her gut whenever she heard Lírien’s clear voice exclaim about another aspect of botany that was strange to her.

She heard it again now, praising the yellow shot with red flowers of – _no. No!_

Tauriel’s heart dropped swifter than the bowl of food she held, running towards Lírien. “Don’t touch that!” she cried, already knowing it was too late, her attention entirely consumed with the image of Lírien’s long pale fingers reaching out to caress a bright petal.

She reached, she pushed – they fell.

A tangle of limbs and Lírien’s soft blue cloak. Tauriel pushed up on her arms, blinking dust out of her eyes as she stared down into the grey eyes of the most beautiful creature on Arda. Shifting her weight back onto her knees, she reached out, trailing one trembling fingertip down Lírien’s cheek.

“Are you well, Lirien?” she asked, surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice. Tauriel felt warm, scrubbing her free hand over her face, feeling annoyed with the sticky yellow pollen stuck to her skin. Beneath her, Lírien’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with soft amusement.

“You tried to save me from _pollen_?” she laughed.

Tauriel’s heart sank. Closing her eyes, she sighed, trying to muster the care to speak clearly despite the bonfire being lit in her blood.

“That is a fiendish plant, my lady,” she croaked, calling upon all her long years of training and self-control to remain still.

“Tauriel!” Legolas called, pulling on her shoulder. Tauriel turned her face to look at him, watching her best friend’s face fall. “Oh, dear,” he murmured. “Curulhénes, bring me a pail of water – maybe it’s not too late…”

Tauriel shook her head, licking her lips. They tasted like honey, sweet and dark and _delicious_ like peaches from the South Forest.

Beneath her leather armour, her nipples stiffened to hard points, making her core throb with need when they pressed against the fabric of her undertunic.

“It’s too late, Legolas,” she mumbled dreamily, turning back to stare at Lírien’s confused face.

_Such tempting lips… do you taste like honey?_

Legolas’ grip tightened, just as Tauriel bent down, pulling her back and off Lírien’s prone form.

“Fight it!” he ordered.

Tauriel nodded. Pulling herself together, stealing one more glance at Lírien whose confusion only made her lovelier, those full lips so eminently kissable…

 _No_.

The bucket of water Curulhénes poured over her didn’t do much to clear her mind, but it washed away most of the pollen from her face, and Tauriel felt a sliver of gratitude, leaning heavily on Legolas as she stagger-walked to the other side of camp, every step exquisite agony as the fabric of her underwear rubbed slickly against her pulsing core.

“.. you hear me?” Legolas asked, shaking her lightly. Tauriel nodded, though she had no idea what her friend said. Her free hand rubbed slowly over her nipple, nearly enough to make her knees give out in a flood of desire.

“I will stay with her,” Curulhénes offered, taking over from their Prince who nodded. Tauriel felt a shiver of relief that Legolas would not be the one seeing her through the night. If only…

“Lírien…” she moaned softly, turning back to look at the harpist staring after them, a handprint outlined in yellow on her waist the only evidence of Tauriel’s folly.

 

 

“Don’t touch that!” The blonde Prince of Woodland Realm ordered, his irate voice breaking the spell of Tauriel’s soft brown eyes. Lírien startled, feeling a hand wrap around her wrist just before she could touch the odd yellow pollen that the flower had anointed Tauriel’s face with.

Shocked, she watched him rip her cloak off and throw it on the fire, still keeping a death-grip on her wrist. Lírien vaguely thought she would have bruises in the morning, from his fingers and from falling. Her shoulder throbbed where she had landed on it.

“What…?” she tried, recoiling from the anger in his blue eyes.

“That was a collamarther!” he growled, shaking her. “Don’t you know _anything?_ ”

Lírien opened her mouth to defend herself, closing it in surprise at the poorly veiled fear in his eyes.

“That is enough, Prince Legolas,” Elrond’s calm voice interrupted before Lírien could ask why the pretty plant made Prince Legolas seem almost… _afraid_.

“I’m sorry, Master Elrond, but it is not,” the Prince seethed, though he let go of Lírien’s wrist. She rubbed it gently, her skin smarting. “Not all plants in these woods are harmless… and the prettiest are often the most dangerous.”

Lírien felt the first stirrings of dread in her gut, staring in the direction Tauriel had vanished.

 _Please…_ she did not know what to ask for, biting her lip.

The scream startled her, low drawn-out agony echoing among the dark trees that suddenly seemed far less friendly.

“What’s wrong with Tauriel?” she whispered, and this time if was her fingers closing around Prince Legolas’ wrist, forcing him to look at her. “What does the… _collamarther_ … do?”

“We use the diluted pollen to make an aphrodisiac drink for the Feast of Lovers.” Legolas winced when another pleading cry resounded among the trees.

Lírien’s mind whirled.  “She’s in pain!” She realised suddenly, biting her lip as guilt flooded her soul. _She knew what the plant would do t her… and she saved me anyway._

“Can the plant’s effect not be mitigated?” Elrond asked, his touch gentle when he patted her hand as though he wished to soothe her heart. Lírien felt a little warm, shame heating her face.

 _I’m so sorry_.

“No,” Legolas sighed. “There is some reprieve to be found in…” he flushed slightly, and Lírien’s stomach dropped further towards her toes, “- finding _relief_ with one’s preferred partner but…”

Lírien drew back, heart pounding in her chest. “Tauriel’s… spouse is not among your number,” she guessed, feeling cold.

_Of course, she’s already found someone to hold her heart._

“No.” Legolas sighed, glancing towards the direction of the small tent where the other redheaded guard had taken Tauriel. “Curulhénes will try to tend to her – she offered – but it will be a long night and day for Tauriel until the pollen she ingested is out of her system.” He glanced at Lírien then, his face softening. “You should understand that the plant relieves the user of his or her inhibitions in many ways… but the fire it sets in your blood can only be quenched with pleasure. And Tauriel was exposed to a large amount of it… I do not know how long the effects will last.”

“May I see her?” Lírien asked carefully. “Perhaps I might help care for her… I am the reason she is suffering.”

“That is… not a good idea,” Legolas replied, looking awkward. “For the Feast, couples will drink it _together_ …” trailing off, he seemed to rally himself when another pained cry came from the small tent in the distance. “The drink makes you want the first thing you see for a night… and the first person _Tauriel_ saw… was you.”

Lírien swallowed hard.

“She wants me because the plants made her?” she asked, feeling her heart break. _She will never forgive me causing her such pain_. _Never_ want _me in truth… even if she was free to choose – and it’s all my fault._

“Yes,” Legolas sighed, “the plant is purely physical, I’m afraid – once, someone played a cruel trick on one of my Adar’s servants; we found him trying to couple with a knot in a barrel…”

Lírien was sure only Master Elrond’s great self-control killed the snort she also felt rise up her own throat – only to die at the horror of the thought of the poor elf.

“Can she deny it?” she asked, trying not to listen for the softer sighs and moans that replaced the loud screams she now believed to be Tauriel’s climax rolling through her.

“If she didn’t have aid in seeking her pleasure – or giving it to the person she truly desires – Tauriel would be overcome nonetheless,” Legolas admitted quietly, another loud groan piercing the still air. Tauriel’s voice cracked. “Curulhénes’ presence might keep her from getting injured, I hope.”

He did not look convinced.

Lírien felt a curiously mercenary sense of resolve fill her. “Then I shall go to Tauriel, and offer my aid,” she decided, setting off before either ellon could offer protest.

_Even if all I shall have of you is this night… I will take it._

_Forgive me._

_Please._

 

 

Tauriel could hardly think, her hands moving beneath her clothing without thought or care for onlookers. Leaning against Curulhénes, she felt a frisson of gratitude that the elleth was not part of her usual squadron. At least she would not have to command someone who had seen her in this compromised situation on a daily basis.

“Just a bit further, Tauriel,” the weaver’s daughter murmured, stroking her side gently. Tauriel was hyperfocused on every movement, feeling the fire beneath her skin follow each touch. And still this would not bring her the release she craved – _Lírien!_ – though Lhena’s touch would be preferable to her own.

Tauriel was aware of the motions of her legs only because each step made her snug leggings rub against her body, every part of her skin on fire.

Fighting buckles and straps, she undressed herself, hardly aware of Lhena’s cool hands helping when she tossed her tunic aside, falling onto her bedroll as she rode her own fingers with a scream of frustration at the futility of her actions.

The fire in her blood burned hotter.

Soft-rough rope caressed her flailing limbs, and Tauriel’s hips moved against her hand, chasing the unreachable climax she could almost _taste_.

The rope pulled taut. Tauriel snarled blindly, writing on the furs. Her hips continued to pump against air, her fingers glistening with her own juices, looking so tempting Tauriel had to lick one.

“Shhh, Tauriel… I will take care of you.”

Curulhénes’ head bent, soft lips capturing a hard nipple and Tauriel moaned, yanking on the rope to move her head lower.

The rope held. The fire in her core kept burning despite Curulhénes’ cool fingers parting her folds.

Tauriel screamed.

 

 

Pushing aside the flap of the tent, Lírien stared.

Tauriel was naked, so much pale-gold skin and toned muscle on display it made her dizzy to think of – and her mouth water.

Then she noticed the ropes, softened by reams of fabric wound around Tauriel’s wrists and ankles but still it was _rope_ like the kind used to secure a pony now used to secure the thrashing elleth while another redhaired elleth used her fingers on her. Tauriel screamed again, her body quivering.

“What are you doing here?!” the fully-clothed redhead asked sharply, looking up with a narrow-eyed glare. Lírien bit her lip. The Nandorin seemed far more sexually adventurous than the Sindarin in general, she thought idly, remembering Prince Legolas claiming there was a _Feast_ involving this plant.

“I just… wanted to help,” she mumbled softly, pressing herself back against the tent wall offering the illusion of privacy. “I… she wouldn’t….” she trailed off, wringing her wide sleeves between nervous fingers. Curulhénes’ face softened slightly, her fingers sliding wetly from Tauriel’s slick folds, prompting a whimpered protest from the Lieutenant herself.

“Tauriel knew what she did when she pushed you away,” she offered softly. “The Sindar beyond our Forest are not so free with their bodies as we – you, I guess, have not lain with another in pleasure.”

Lírien shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn hotter if that was even possible.

“Tauriel would not want that choice to be taken from you unwillingly,” Curulhénes added gently, moving her thumb and her fingers as she spoke. “And you hold no blame for this unfortunate situation to my mind.”

Tauriel whimpered again, slumping against the ropes as her climax subsided.

Lírien winced.

_I hold all the blame, no matter what you say._

“Still, I…” _envy you._

“See if you can get her to drink something,” Curulhénes ordered, pulling her hand away once more and flexing her fingers.

Lírien jumped to obey, lifting Tauriel’s head into her lap as she reached for a skin of water. Tauriel mumbled something dazedly, and the smile she gave her was so beautiful it hurt Lírien’s soul.

“Drink,” she urged, tipping the skin enough to pout a thin stream of water into Tauriel’s mouth. Laying the skin aside, Lírien’s fingers returned to the red hair, dark with sweat at the temples, stroking a few away from Tauriel’s face.

“Lí…” Tauriel mumbled, turning her face into Lírien’s hand and pressing a soft kiss against one of her harp callouses.

Lírien blushed, but her hands stayed, running gently through red strands as a small soothing tune rose unbidden to her lips.

In her lap, Tauriel smiled.

Then she gasped, legs thrashing against the rope for a moment until Curulhénes’ fingers were back between her legs, her mouth returned to playing with Tauriel’s nipple.

Lírien sang, unaware of the small tears running down her face until one landed on Tauriel’s cheek.

 

Pleasure burned beneath her skin in waves of wildfire, sapping her strength like no draught of Maelui had ever done. Tauriel strained against her bonds, feeling an echo of her own heartbeat so near yet too far to reach, frustratingly close like the scent of apple blossoms – _Lírien… my Lírien –_ but fleeting like morning dew.

Rain dotted her face and the soft sound of an unknown song filled her with longing.

The fire burned on.

 

“She will rest between the needings – what we call the cresting waves of desire that collamarther pollen induces,” Curulhénes sighed, wiping sweat from her own forehead. “If I can get her through them.”

“What do you mean _if_?” Lírien asked sharply, looking up from where she had been trying to coax a little water down Tauriel’s moaned-raw throat.

“She doesn’t truly desire _my_ touch,” Curulhénes pointed out, “did they not explain what the collamarther does in its diluted form before you barged in here?” Gesturing the words away with a flick of her wrist she continued impatiently, “I cannot bring Tauriel the relief she _needs…_ because I am not the one she _craves_ …” Raising an expressive eyebrow, she glared at Lírien again. “ _You_ are.”

“But…”

“But you don’t want her, I understand – believe me, _I do_ – but it doesn’t change the facts.” Curulhénes sighed, trying to still Tauriel’s limbs when the beginning of a new cycle came over her. “Undiluted collamarther is dangerous.”

“Líri…” Tauriel moaned.

“She only wants me because of the plant!” Lírien exclaimed, gesturing at Tauriel and wincing at the sight of her straining against the ropes, her wrists starting to show signs of abrasions. “Can you not release her from those?!”

“She’s too desperate,” Curulhénes said, anger clear in her posture though she did not evict Lírien from the small tent which made her feel a little braver, “she’s likely to injure herself like this. She’ll –”

“ _Lírien…_ ” Tauriel gasped suddenly, interrupting whatever her friend had wanted to say. “ _Lírien, please._ ” Her back bowed in another climax, ripping a scream from her throat at the same time.

She had dreamed those words, before, in her bed at home, and Lírien felt curiously returned to one of her dreams when she trailed the tip of her fingers down Tauriel’s shoulder, reaching first one straining nub and then passing over to the other. Supple paleness and rosy red flushes mapped by hesitantly eager hands moving over toned flesh in the dim light of a single lamp.

Lírien was not quite sure when she had fallen to her knees but sucking a swollen nipple into her mouth felt like her best idea yet, hearing the way Tauriel panted, straining to push more of her breast into her mouth.

“ _Please, darling_ ,” she gasped, “ _more_.”

Lírien plucked gently at her other nipple, running her tongue in slow lazy circles. Tauriel’s skin tasted salty with her sweat, and somehow like sweetest honey; altogether it was more delicious than the best food she recalled eating.

 _My dreams will never be enough now_.

The thought, crystalline truth in an instant, flitted across her mind but Lírien paid it no heed, the shifting of her own legs revealing what a mess she had made of her smallclothes.

She smothered her sounds against Tauriel’s soft skin, failing to convince even her own mind that what she was doing was at all altruistic.

Sliding her hand further down, tracing the seam of one hip, Lírien dared to glance up, but Tauriel’ head was thrown back and her face hidden. Her neck strained and her back bowed as another deep moan forced its way through her throat, making her tremble against Lírien’s curious fingers.

Curulhénes’ hand stilled again, and Tauriel whimpered at the loss of touch.

Lírien hummed.

A dancing tune, wild and free like her forest-sprite love; the tune that had snared her heart with the nimble feet and laughing eyes of this elleth.

“Líri…” Tauriel groaned.

Lírien bent back to her task, filling her mind with memories of the taste of her supple skin, distantly noting the lines where her skin had been decorated with patterns of green ink, symbols Lírien did not understand. Tracing one line down across Tauriel’s ribs, she heard the whimper of protest, felt the way her legs kicked helplessly against the hard ground, and slung her own over Tauriel’s strong thigh for balance.  

Pressing kisses into the shadow of her hipbone produced a different note, musical and beautiful as it spilled forth, Lírien’s fingers tracing over Tauriel’s thighs like she was playing her own beloved harp, seeking each new note of pleasure she could find.

Moving up along one of those green lines, Lírien came back to Tauriel’s breast, drawing a nipple into her mouth with a small hum of pleasure.

Curulhénes’ fingers, wet but warm, closed around hers, tugging gently until Lírien’s fingers met soft wetness, timidly exploring Tauriel’s folds. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, simply trying things she had liked when she touched herself in the past.

“Good,” Curulhénes murmured in her ear, and part of Lírien thought she should object to that, the presence of another in such an intimate moment but her fingers once more obeyed the elleth’s guiding hands and she couldn’t help the full-body shiver when she felt Tauriel’s slickness coat her own fingers.

The thigh pressing between her own legs flexed, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Lírien’s head snapped up with a gasp, staring at the flushed face of Tauriel, her lips quirking into a smirk. She was acutely aware of just how soaked her smalls had become.

Pressing two fingers into Tauriel transformed the smirk into a groan, her eyes falling shut for a moment, hiding that fiery desire from view.

“Look at me,” Lírien whispered, nipping gently at the straining nipple and crooked her fingers, feeling for that spot she liked to touch in herself. “Tauriel. Look at me.” Moving slowly, she rubbed her fingers through slippery folds, dipping inside Tauriel for a moment before drawing back, wondering at her own daring. This hardly seemed like her, and yet she felt that Sauron himself could appear and she would not give up eliciting more of Tauriel’s sweet whimpered moans.

_I want you to see me… remember that it is my hands, my lips, giving you pleasure… I want to see you look at me like you adore me, just a little._

Her own hips moved slowly, riding Tauriel’s strong thigh without conscious command, and the blazing look in those golden-brown eyes seemed to trap her, heightening the pleasure in her core as Tauriel squeezed her fingers, close to another peak.

Lírien had lost count.

Nothing existed but the feel of Tauriel’s warm skin, her body taut with anticipation. Dipping her head, Lírien licked away a droplet of sweat gathered in the hollow of her throat, feeling Tauriel swallow hard, yanking on the rope hard enough to make the peg tilt a little.

“Kiss me,” she begged, and Lírien knew she shouldn’t, but – Nessa help her – she _wanted to_. Biting her lip with indecision, she sped up the movements of her fingers, pressing against that small spot that felt different with each pass.

“I…”

“ _Kiss me_ , Lí- _ai!_ -rien,” Tauriel moaned.

Lírien kissed her, swallowing the groan of completion from her lips. Her fingers rested in Tauriel, feeling the rhythmic squeeze as the climax passed through her with a sense of wonder.

Her skin had been soft, but her lips were softer still, and Lírien found herself lost in kissing.

Bringing her hands up to cup Tauriel’s face, she moaned softly, changing the angle of herself slightly and feeling the hard ridge of Tauriel’s thigh between her own hit the spot that sent stars through her vision.

“Tauri..,” she groaned, the rest of the word lost to the new feeling of Tauriel’s tongue licking her lips, gliding softly against her own when her mouth opened. The coil in her belly seemed to draw tighter, chasing her own pleasure.

It was all too much – _too good_ – and then Tauriel caught her bottom lip with her teeth and the light sting of it shattered whatever self-control she still had, releasing the coil of pleasure in a single moment of euphoria.

Lírien felt boneless, slumping onto Tauriel as bliss filled her body.

She never heard the tent flap close.

 

 

Feeling capable of a moment’s thought, Tauriel tugged once more on the bindings around her wrists, pulling the rope free of the peg Curu had tied her to. Bucking her hips and rolling them over, she looked down at Lírien.

That soft pink mouth stretched into a surprised ‘o’, and Tauriel couldn’t help but stealing a taste, feeling the way Lírien shuddered beneath her when she sucked on her tongue with a deep sense of satisfaction that wasn’t _all_ due the collamarther.

“Sweet Lírien,” she murmured, resting on her elbows as she trailed kisses down Lírien’s neck, the soft moans turning into mewls of pleasure when she sucked on the rapid beat of her heart there. Tauriel grinned.

Lírien’s legs splayed open, cradling Tauriel’s naked body as her hands started moving, exploring the long expanse of her back and running up to bury themselves in her hair, tugging gently.

Tauriel heard herself moan, a half-crazed sound as need began to build in her flesh once more, turning her bones into liquid fire pooling in her groin.

“My Lírien…” Her wrists were still bound, making Tauriel growl with frustration against Lírien’s neck. “Let me see you.”

Lírien’s hands stilled for a moment, her body shivering lightly.

Lírien hesitated, staring up at her. Tauriel dipped her head, ghosting her lips over Lírien’s, pleased with the way she strained up for more.

“Please Li-li,” Tauriel begged hoarsely, “I want to taste you.”

The nickname, spoken so lovingly, was almost enough to make Lírien forget that none of Tauriel’s desire was grounded in love.

Almost.

Tauriel’s mouth returned to her neck, sending shivers of fire through her when it travelled up, those warm lips wrapping softly around the lobe of her ear and tugging gently.

She moaned, forgetting her objections for a moment, tugging on Tauriel’s hair until she came back to kiss her properly.

“Yes…” she whispered. Pressing her back until Tauriel sat up between her legs, Lírien rose from her prone position. Reaching up, she undid the ropes tying her wrists together, throwing the length into one of the corners.

Tauriel rubbing her wrists slowly, those fiery eyes melting Lírien’s core as though it was made of spring ice and Tauriel was her sun.

Slowly, she pulled on the silk ribbons that held her dress closed, watching Tauriel’s eyes follow every movement as the laces came undone.

Cupping her face, those unfamiliar calluses send a shiver of sparks down Lírien’s spine, Tauriel leant in for another kiss, letting Lírien come to her.

She barely noticed the way those hands skimmed down her shoulders, taking her sleves and shift with them until the fabric pooled around her middle.

Tauriel’s fingers found her breast, pinching each nipple once.

Lírien jumped, surprising herself with the wanton groan that left her as Tauriel pressed her back against the bedroll, her tongue and teeth unerringly finding the best ways to caress and nip at her flesh.

“Ai, _Tauriel,_ ” she moaned, her fingers back in that red mane, pressing Tauriel’s face into her chest with something akin to desperation.

Tauriel stilled, those brown eyes at once soft and filled with fire gazing up at her.

She smirked.

Lírien’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head when Tauriel sucked the mark of her lips into the upper swell of one breast, feeling curiously satisfied at the small thought that her dress wouldn’t hide it in the morning.

“More,” she begged.

Tauriel groaned.

Pushing her hands beneath Lírien’s skirts, drawing the layers of fine linen up her legs, she kept kissing her breasts, leaving more than one claim on the creamy pale skin.

Running her hands up Lírien’s thighs made her moans more desperate, but Tauriel especially loved the small whine she couldn’t smother when she ran her fingers lightly over the soaked gusset of her smallclothes.

Untying the laces was a work of moments, pressing one finger inside her sweet centre as her thumb felt for the small bud of pleasure. Lírien’s legs closed around her and Tauriel stilled her hand, filled with sudden clarity.

“You … haven’t done this before, have you?” she breathed, pulling away from Lírien’s breasts and feeling a possessive sort of satisfaction that she would be the first to show her such pleasure when she shook her head mutely, cheeks flushing brightly.

Sitting back on her heels, Tauriel gentled her fingers, running softly along Lírien’s petals and circling her small bud, watching the way her eyes closed.

_I’ll be so very good to you, love…_

Drawing the skirts away, she bent, breathing gently over her slick flesh, and pulled her hand out of Lírien’s smalls.

Lírien moaned a protest, making Tauriel smirk

“Please…” she whispered, “don’t stop.”

“Oh, no, my sweet Lírien…” Tauriel whispered, “ _I promise_.”

Her mouth was so close she could almost taste her already, but Tauriel hesitated slightly, turning her head so she could kiss the creamy flesh of her inner thighs instead. Pulling the lacings keeping Lírien’s smalls in place free, she shimmied the thin fabric down her legs, distracting her with kisses designed to fan the flames in her blood in an echo of the blaze she ignited in Tauriel’s.

When Lírien’s hips jumped, she snuck her hands beneath those lovely curves, lifting first one leg then the other over her shoulders.

Looking up, she smiled at Lírien, her grey eyes wide and her breath coming in soft pants.  
  
"Just relax…” she whispered, breathing the words across Lírien’s heated flesh. “And enjoy it."

Lírien nodded.

The taste of her – _honey, salt, musk_ – exploded across Tauriel’s tongue, making her yearn for more even as it sated a _hunger_ she had not realised was gnawing at her insides. Lapping at Lírien’s flower, she moaned, tightening her grip when Lírien’s hips bucked.

“Taur _\- ai, Tauriel!”_ she keened, moaning breathlessly as she stared down at Tauriel’s red head, feeing herself nearly devoured by the warrior – and loving every moment of it, wanting only more of her sweet touches.

Closing her eyes was both better and _so much worse_ , Lírien thought, sparks flashing across her vision as Tauriel’s tongue played her body like a virtuoso.

Letting her thighs fall wide open, Lírien moved her hands to her breasts, rolling her nipples in time with Tauriel’s kisses.

And then Tauriel’s tongue found her small bud, coaxing it out to play, and Lírien thought her fëa might explode out of her body, riding the waves of bliss that coursed through her.

She screamed, flashes of lightning rippling through her flesh.

Tauriel drew back – or she tried to, at least, but Lírien’s hands had snuck into her hair, keeping her mouth pressed tight against her flower bursting into bloom, her thighs tight as steel-bars around her head.

Tauriel drank her down happily.

 

When Lírien returned to herself, her fingers were slowly running through red coppery strands, Tauriel’s head resting on her bare thigh, her lips glistening wetly in the light of the small oil lamp above them.

Following the sinuous curves of her long limbs, Lírien felt her cheeks heat at the sight of Tauriel drawing two equally-glistening fingers from her flower.

“You are… _delicious_ ,” she purred, licking her lips before pressing a small kiss into Lírien’s thigh. Lírien blinked up at the lamp, shadows playing gently over their entwined limbs as she caressed one pointy ear.

“You… that was…” Lírien sighed, shaking her head at herself.

Tauriel grinned, satisfaction radiating from her. “ _Good_.”

Kissing her way up along her body made Lírien sigh and tug at those red locks once more, yearning for the fiery kisses she had at first been adamant she would not steal. “Tauriel…!” she whimpered, arching her back when that blessed mouth reached her breast, Tauriel’s tongue teasing past her nipple.

Leaning on one arm, Tauriel looked down, smoothing a stray piece of hair off Lírien’s forehead.

“My beautiful Lírien.”

The smile on Tauriel’s face was so happy, so _beautiful_ , and Lírien lifted her head to taste it from her lips.

And then Tauriel collapsed onto her, snoring gently.

 

 

 

Extricating herself from Tauriel’s sleeping embrace proved a more arduous task than Lírien could have foreseen…  

Not least because she did not truly wish to leave, even if the lust-filled haze that seemed to have overtaken her – _that was the only reason she could have so willingly used the elleth’s intoxication for her own pleasure, was it not?_ – seemed to be lifted.

Struggling against the tears threatening to spill, Lírien gathered up her clothing, doing up lacing and buttons with shaky fingers.

Covering Tauriel’s naked body with a cloak – pretending that one last look would be enough to sate the longing the night had kindled in her – she doused the lamp and ducked out of the small tent.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re being foolish, my friend,” Legolas murmured, circling around the back end of the group to walk next to Tauriel.

She scowled at him.

“She took pity on me, nothing more. It was a kindness.” _I used her… she should not forgive me._

“If you truly believe that, I must question if the collamarther addled your mind beyond the lust it induced,” Legolas replied evenly. “I admit I had doubts at first, but Curulhénes is not given to flights of fancy; I trust her observations – but you do not… and I am sorrowed for you.”

“Do not pity me!” Tauriel growled. “This topic is _ended_ , Legolas, we will speak no more of it.”

“As you wish,” he conceded.

 

* * *

 

The Halls of the Elvenking were grand – imposing pillared caverns rising so far over her head that Lírien had to lean her head back to follow the grandest all the way up – surrounding the spirit with a protective embrace of earth and stone even if it also seemed that she was suddenly much further from the calming light of Elbereth’s stars.

And she needed calming.

Tauriel had not spoken to her aside from a stilted thank-you in the morning after Lírien had made such a fool of herself with her, and the beautiful Lieutenant had not looked at her since, either.

Guilt tore at her.

 

* * *

 

Setting up her harp in the spacious quarters she had been given, Lírien lost herself in the music, playing up a storm mirroring the one in her heart and soothing its ache as the melody gentled, her fingers drawing softer notes until she felt a semblance of her own calm self.

And then the door opened.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tauriel had refused more than the single glass of Dorwinion in celebration of their completed mission. Her friends had tried to cheer her up, and she appreciated the attempt, even if it did little to soothe her wounded heart.

Or the guilt that lay heavy on her shoulders.

Legolas had – in keeping with his promise – not brought up the topic of Lírien again, but she could feel his worried gaze on her every now and again regardless, which only made her feel worse about the whole situation.

The right thing – _the brave thing_ – would be to speak to Lírien, to bare her soul and ask for what she thought might have been possible before _that night_.

The right thing would be to ask forgiveness for any trespass.

But Tauriel did not want _forgiveness_.

And she dared not want _more_.

 

As the night progressed, Tauriel began to look for opportunities to escape back to her rooms, the gaiety of her friends grating when she was not in the same mood of revelry – or at their level of inebriation.

Each time she tried, however, one or the other of the group would tug her back down and part of Tauriel wanted their company to assuage the sudden loneliness she felt and so she allowed herself to retake her seat, even if she refused the proffered wines.

Losing herself in the dulling power of Dorwinion – Legolas _always_ had the best vintages, a perk of being the King’s son – was tempting but part of her thought she deserved to feel every moment of this terrible guilt; atonement through endurance, perhaps.

Eventually, as such nights always did, the revelry came to an end, and Tauriel found herself walking next to Legolas, half-supporting, half-carrying Faindirn who was waxing poetic about Tuilinthel’s fierce glares and making them all crack up with laughter as they stumbled along the stone corridors.

“Let’s go this way!” Legolas decreed, and Tauriel simply shook her head in amusement as they followed him, heading almost in the opposite direction to the rooms in the Guards’ section they each owned – even though Legolas had his rooms in the Royal Quarters, he could be found in the company of his friends more often than not on nights like these.

“Tis the _Guest Wing_ ,” she reminded him, “and the contingent from Imladris are bound to be asleep… be _quiet_.”

Hushing either of her companions, of course, was as futile as trying to make the Forest River run upstream.

With a small huff, Tauriel tried to chivvy them on, while Faindirn’s attention was arrested by the intricate carvings decorating the doors, making him actively fight her grip to get closer.

“Look! It’s Gilaras!” he exclaimed, child-like glee on his face.

Legolas laughed, leaning in and supporting himself on the handle as he looked at the young elk that did bear a striking resemblance to his childhood pet and first mount. “It is - oops!”

They tumbled through the door accompanied by a discordant clang of music suddenly strangled.

“ _Elbereth_ , Faindirn!” Tauriel shouted. “Get off of me!”

“Aww, but you smell good,” Faindirn slurred, though his weight thankfully disappeared from Tauriel’s back before she decided to buck him off in the most painful way possible.

“C’mon, Faindirn…” Legolas muttered.

Tauriel pushed herself off the floor and froze.

Staring at them, grey eyes wide and soft mouth slightly open, one hand resting on her harp, was Lírien.

 _Lírien…_ Tauriel mouthed, feeling her heart stop for a moment before racing onwards like a swift messenger-elk. _Lírien._

The door shut behind her, the sound of the lock turning almost loud enough to drown out the sound of her heartbeat.

“You’re not getting out till you talk to the lady, Tauri!” Faindirn shouted while Legolas’ drunken laughter sounded clearly through the door.

Tauriel winced.

 _Just you wait, Faindirn… and you, too, Legolas!_ She swore to herself, spinning on her heel to glare at the door, knowing that it was futile to try to pick it, even if it wouldn’t be incredibly insulting to Lírien, too.

“Uhm… hello.”

Tauriel whirled, her cheeks afire.

Lírien was still standing by the harp, staring down at her thin silk slippers. The blue dress she wore was simple but well-made, clinging to her curves in all the right ways.

Tauriel licked her lips. “Good evening, Lady Lírien,” she croaked, mentally cursing her friends, her heart, and the stupid collamarther. “Are you… well?”

“Should I not be asking _you_ this, Lieutenant Tauriel?” Lírien asked softly and Tauriel had never before _hated_ the title she had worked so hard to earn.

“Just Tauriel, please, my Lady,” she offered, clenching one fist.

“If you drop the Lady,” Lírien countered, looking up at her and biting her bottom lip.

Tauriel’s stomach fluttered. That look in her eyes seemed almost _yearning_ and it gave her some hope that all had not been lost with her recklessness. “As you wish… Lírien.”

“You had words for me?” Lírien prompted, looking down at her feet again and twisting one loose lock between nervous fingers like a young patrolman standing before her officer awaiting a reprimand.

“An apology…” Tauriel’s throat felt dry, tightening around the words. Guilt for the shadows beneath Lírien’s eyes burned her. “I… recall little from that night but… Ai, _Lírien_ , I fear I took from you something you would not have chosen to give me.” Sighing, running a weary hand across her eyes, Tauriel sank into the only chair in the room. “For that I am most sorry.”

“No.” The strings of the harp moved when Lírien’s fingers left the instrument, and the next thing Tauriel felt was the cool touch of her hands on her own. “I regret none of the things that passed between us,” she whispered.

Tauriel’s eyes flew open, staring at the elleth between her knees, her fingers turning until she was holding Lírien’s hands as much as she was being held, hardly daring to breathe for fear of losing the feeling coursing through her.

“I regret naught,” Lírien repeated, “save that my presence caused you pain…” Biting her lip again, making Tauriel want to kiss the spot, Lírien continued, her voice shaky though the tears in her eyes did not fall. “… Will you… I have not dared to seek them out, but will you offer my most heartfelt apologies to your spouse?”

Tauriel stared at her. “My… spouse?” she wondered, more confused than she had been since waking alone in the tent that morning and tasting the flavour of Lírien on her lips but finding the harpist nowhere in sight.

Lírien grimaced, those storm-grey eyes darting away only to return to Tauriel’s face; stubborn courage was a good look on her, Tauriel idly decided. “Yes… I am sorry.”

Tauriel cupped her face. “Lírien… I am not wed.” Lírien’s mouth fell open, and Tauriel found herself babbling nervously to fill the silence. “Legolas would say I am wed to my duty, perhaps, but no one person holds a claim to my heart, I promise.” _Except you and your persistent appearances in my dreams which would suggest otherwise._ Tauriel ignored the little voice in her head entirely.

Lírien fell back on her heels, gaping up at her, and Tauriel felt her cheeks heat.

“But they said… the collamarther, I mean, that _couples_ use it!” Lírien protested, getting back on her feet and retreating to her harp, running one hand along the strings in a susurration of confusion.

“We do,” Tauriel admitted, “but one need not be _wed_ to share in the delight of Maelui with another… particularly during the Feast of Lovers.” She, herself, had shared a bed with more than one person through this feast and that, but the Westerners saw such natural desires much differently, she realised when Lírien’s mouth twisted with sadness.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, glancing at her harp and gentling the strings for a moment. “I should not have presumed…”

“You did _nothing_ wrong,” Tauriel objected hotly, jumping to her feet in frustration and pacing the suddenly small room. “ _I was the one who took advantage of your kindness._ ”

The melancholy sound of the harp continued.

“I forgive you,” Lírien said, playing a gentle tune that Tauriel almost recognised but was certain she’d never heard before. “If that’s what you want to hear.”

Tauriel bristled.

“I don’t _want_ forgiveness,” she cried out, catching Lírien by the shoulder and turning her around to face her, “I want _you_!”

The sudden silence of smothered strings made the words echo in her mind, staring at Lírien who stared back, her soft mouth open in surprise, wetness still glinting at the edge of her lashes. Tauriel winced.

“What…” Lírien began, staring up at her, bottom lip back between her teeth. “But… I never – I thought that night…” she mumbled, wringing her fingers, “it would be all I could have of you and I’ve…” Tears trailed down her cheeks unheeded as she stared at Tauriel. “I’ve felt so _guilty_ for using you like that when you only tried to save me from my own folly.”

Tauriel snapped.

This kiss was almost violently desperate, but still it sent Lírien’s heart soaring with heat.

“I,” Tauriel whispered between slowly gentling kisses, “ _want_ … you.”

“Taurie…” Lírien tried, her mind swimming as she clutched at Tauriel’s arms, pulling her closer. This seemed almost like one of her dreams, only _better_.

Tauriel drew back, panting for air. One hand rose, her thumb swiping gently at the droplet lingering on Lírien’s sharp cheekbone before she cupped her cheek. “Sorry…. That was out of line,” she whispered, blushing. “I just… I don’t want you to think I could only want you because of a plant.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Tauriel sighed, closing her eyes. “The truth is… I wanted you, Lírien, ever since the first time I saw you play… and I love you now, for your kindness, and shy smiles, and your clever fingers that paint such lovely music into my mind.”

“I’ve been in love with you for _years_ …” Lírien breathed, the heat in her belly curling up and purring gently at the happy smile on Tauriel’s face at her words. “But I never dared hope…” Throwing her arms around Tauriel’s neck, she laughed happily, stealing a kiss of her own.

Tauriel responded as though _she_ wasn’t quite sure it was real either, a thought that made Lírien smile against her lips, and wrapped her arms around Lírien’s waist, tugging her closer until she was pressed tight against her chest.

The warm hands slowly roaming her back grew bolder, the caresses firmer as the kisses grew hotter, and Lírien’s spirit seemed to float in a hazy sea of pleasure as Tauriel’s strong fingers sought out the curves of her body.

“Stay with me tonight,” she moaned between kisses, hissing at the sudden sharp pleasure of Tauriel’s thigh pressing between her legs. _Stay with me always_.

Tauriel groaned, her fingers flexing where she gripped Lírien’s buttocks, and picked her up easily, licking her way into Lírien’s mouth as a distraction as she walked towards the low bed in the corner of the room. Pushing the screen blocking their way aside, Tauriel stopped for a moment, breathing hard as she stared into Lírien’s soft grey eyes.

“Tell me what you want, my lovely,” she ordered hoarsely, giving Lírien’s ear a small nip before trailing kisses down her neck, enjoying the way she writhed against her in response.

“ _Everything_.” Lírien’s fingers caught on the front of Tauriel’s surcoat, undoing the small leaf-decorated catches that held it closed.

Tauriel swallowed, pulling back only to be caught by those silver-grey eyes burning with desire.

“ _You._ ” Lírien smiled, trailing a single digit down the parting in a way that made Tauriel’s blood heat, only to draw both hands up, pushing the coat off her shoulders with another kiss.

Pulling her hands free of the green cloth, abandoning her coat on the floor, Tauriel grinned against Lírien’s lips, and lost herself to more heady kisses.

Tauriel would have been quite happy to stand there forever, but Lírien’s boldness seemed to awaken once more, that small hand resting in the valley of her breasts suddenly pressing against her. Tauriel obeyed the pressure, loving the satisfaction in Lírien’s face when she found herself on the bed staring up at her.

“ _Come, then_ ,” she challenged, catching Lírien’s hand and drawing it down to rest on her chest once more, those clever fingers tracing the shape of her breasts with something like reverence. Tauriel felt herself quiver, knowing that this would be so much _better_ than the night of the collamarter, and threw her head back with a soft moan. “ _Touch me.”_

Lírien explored – Tauriel seemed willing to let her take her time, and part of her loved that, even though a different part of her wanted to let Tauriel take charge – standing between Tauriel’s long legs, one knee on the mattress for balance.  The soft linen undershirt, tied with a leather cord at the neck, did not hide the wells of her breasts or the dark circles of her areolae; it certainly provided no cover for Tauriel’s hard nipples, and Lírien felt the buds harden beneath her fingertips as she played.

Tauriel had half a mind to think of herself as kindred to Lírien’s harp, hearing the sounds coming out of her throat in response to the eager but still strangely hesitant touches.

Dipping her head, Lírien stole another kiss, running her hand down Tauriel’s stomach and hooking in the drawstring ties to her leggings, pulling the knots free with ease.

She was surprised to find that Tauriel had undone the lacing of her own dress without her notice, but the cheeky smile on her face made Lírien laugh at the discovery.

Tauriel sat up, tugging her further onto the bed, and undid the laces on her shirt. “Lose the dress,” she murmured, the husky voice making Lírien shiver with desire even as her fingers hurried to obey, drawing the blue fabric over her head and leaving it in a pool by the bed. “Come here,” she asked next, and Lírien found herself lying on Tauriel, her legs parted on either side of her hips as gentle hands roamed her back and fondled her buttocks, making her mewl into Tauriel’s mouth as her hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of that glorious friction she remembered.

“I want to…” Lírien began, pausing for another kiss, her hand holding Tauriel’s breast gently, thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple. “You…” She blushed, and Tauriel had to kiss her for that, the adorable shyness back in her eyes. “ _You licked me_ ,” she said, the words coming out in a rush as her cheeks burned scarlet, “ _I want to…_ ” _But I don’t know how to make it good for you…_

Tauriel groaned. Just the thought of Lírien’s pink tongue – flicking out to taste her lips once, twice – playing with her petals made her feel a hot liquid rush through her core. Tangling her fingers in Lírien’s dark hair, Tauriel kissed her hard. “ _Do it_ ,” she moaned, sucking on Lírien’s tongue.

Giving Tauriel one last kiss on the lips, Lírien began a slow, gradual descent down her body, pushing her undershirt up and out of the way.

Tauriel yanked the garment off and tossed it aside, hardly caring about its fate when Lírien’s mouth found her breasts, teasing, licking, and _suckling_ until she thought she might climax from that alone, her nipples so hard they were nearly painful. “Please, Li-Li,” she panted, caressing those finely shaped ears as her hips bucked, hissing out a long breath of pure _need_. “ _More_.”

Lírien grinned, enjoying Tauriel’s fingers tangled in her hair, and feeling the way her legs shifted restlessly, drawing her closer. Pushing a hand into Tauriel’s leggings, she gasped at the slick warmth of her bare flesh, surprised by the lack of smalls. Tauriel pushed up against her hand, a light keening sound ripped from her throat. With a soft sigh of regret, Lírien abandoned the tempting flesh, drawing Tauriel’s leggings down and off, only momentarily stumped by her boots.

_You’re so pretty… like sunlight in autumn._

Smiling at herself, she continued kissing her way down Tauriel’s soft skin, feeling giddy with power every time Tauriel moaned or tugged her hair to spur her on. Sucking a light bruise into the skin just below the jut of her hipbone made Tauriel curse and jump, but her hands pressed Lírien’s head closer, and the small mark left a rush of heady satisfaction in her mind as she dipped lower entering the angle of Tauriel’s thighs. Lírien kissed her way down the inside of Tauriel’s thigh, sliding her hands beneath her buttocks and cupping a well-toned cheek in each. She squeezed them firmly, smiling to herself as Tauriel squirmed, groaning when she licked her way back up.

 _Well… this is new_. For a moment, Lírien froze; she had never studied another’s flower so closely before – or with such intentions. _How do I kiss an elleth there?_ Tauriel’s lips were pink and puffy, and slightly parted, the flesh glistening with the dew of desire. She had neatly trimmed hair and Lírien had a moment of insecurity at the thought of her own, the lips as smooth as sugar-waxing allowed. A faint, tantalizing aroma rose from her folds, making Lírien’s mouth water. _Promising…_

Lírien remembered how she had felt with Tauriel’s head between her own legs; the memory alone enough to make her stomach squirm delightfully. But she also realised that Tauriel would have had lovers before… and lots of time to practise.

The images in her head made her stomach squirm in a different way and Lírien stalled, resting her cheek against Tauriel’s thigh and looking at her flower, wondering where her courage had fled to.

She looked up, meeting Tauriel’s eyes.

“You don’t have to,” Tauriel offered, giving her a gentle smile. “Some don’t like it.”

Lírien shook her head. “No…” she said, “I want to.” She was surprised to realise _how much_ , turning her head to kiss Tauriel’s thigh again. “Just… tell me if I do it wrong?”

The hand that had been petting her hair moved to cup her cheek as Tauriel’s eyes warmed her to the core. “Kiss me with love,” she whispered, “and you won’t get it wrong, I promise.”

Lírien nodded, trying to still the nervous flutter in her stomach as she leaned forward.

Tentatively, she placed a close-mouth kiss on her warm lips. The flesh was slightly yielding, but not much different than the skin on other parts of Tauriel’s body, and the hair was not off-putting at all – in truth she found she liked the difference in texture. Encouraged, she kissed other places on her petals, smiling happily when Tauriel writhed under her lips, moaning softly as her legs spread wide around Lírien’s shoulders.

“I adore the way you touch me,” Tauriel murmured, making Lírien look up to see her playing with her breasts.

“Really?” Lírien asked.

Tauriel nodded, moving one hand to trace the shape of Lírien’s ear, caressing the point slowly. “I promise,” she smiled, “it feels very good.”

More confident now, Lírien leaned forward, her kisses more passionate, and with a silent prayer, opened her mouth and tasted Tauriel’s nectar for the first time.

Her flavour exploded on her lips and tongue, the taste both indescribable and something she knew she had longed for her entire life; lapping rapidly, she sought out more of it, pulling Tauriel closer and kneading her firm buttocks.

Tauriel’s moans were music to Lírien’s ears, determined to be as good as any who’d done this to her before; the hand that had been caressing her ear tangled in her hair, tugging and pressing her closer, and Lírien felt a stab of pure satisfaction run through her.

A dim, muffled sound reached her ears, and Lírien realized it was herself, humming in hunger as she swiped her tongue up and down her lover’s dripping flower. She plunged it deep inside, unable to get enough of Tauriel’s taste, while Tauriel clutched at the bedsheets and rocked back and forth, her legs tightening around Lírien’s head.  

“More,” she keened, “ _higher_ , Li-li, please…!” Ending on something like a shriek when Lírien followed hr command, flicking her tongue up and brushing against the bud of her flower. Tauriel hissed, her hips jerking in Lírien’s grasp, and the hand on her head suddenly pushed her even closer. “ _More_.”

Lírien grinned, filling her mouth with sweet nectar as she laved the small pearl and listened to Tauriel’s breathy sounds of pleasure. The taste grew in her mouth with each lick, filling her head until her mind seemed to float in a cloud of pure desire.

“ _Ai, Lírien!_ You’re sure,” Tauriel moaned breathlessly, “you haven’t… _ungh_ … done this before?”

Lírien kept licking. Tauriel’s praises gave way to moans and rapid panted breaths, squirming beneath her tongue.

“Lírien, I -!” Tauriel arched up, her hips thrusting into Lírien’s face as her thighs clamped shut around her head. Just as suddenly, she collapsed, legs splayed open and gasping like she’d run from the Library to the kitchens.

Lírien dared to pull away, looking up over Tauriel’s heaving chest, and found herself caught by the dazedly content gaze of her would-be lover. She smiled, resting her head against Tauriel’s thigh and enjoyed the gentle stroking of her ear as she calmed down. _It was good for her_.

“Come here, lovely,” Tauriel whispered, her voice husky and dark in a way that made Lírien shiver with desire, suddenly aware of how soaked her smalls had become. Giving Tauriel’s buttocks one last squeeze, she slid her hands free and moved up the bed, accepting the soft kiss that turned hotter when her tongue snuck into Tauriel’s mouth with a sigh of pleasure.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel woke before dawn, as was her wont, smiling at the sleeping elleth beside her. She felt pleasantly sore, the well-earned ache of well-worked muscles making her smile grow as she stretched. Pressing another kiss against Lírien’s lips, she slid out of bed, gathering up her undershirt and pulling it haphazardly over her head, leaving the hem to fall to mid-thigh and yanking on her leggings. Stuffing her feet into her boots, she draped her discarded coat over one arm, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Lírien’s ear, tracing the point with a gentle finger.

Closing the door softly behind her, Tauriel made her way down the corridor, almost unsurprised when Legolas turned up beside her, his smug grin bearable only because last night had been so very _good_.

Bumping his shoulder with her own, Tauriel smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years.

Legolas’ grin widened, though he did not respond except for the way his eyes travelled her form, cataloguing every stray hair or wrinkled piece of clothing with that same knowing look that he’d had every time she’d got herself in some sort of mischief as an elfling.

“I suppose you’re happy, now, my friend,” she said, growing tired of his speaking silence. “I dn’t for a minute doubt last night was in _your_ plans more than Faindirn’s.”

Legolas laughed, not even perturbed at being caught out. It would have been vexing if she wasn’t so grateful to have such caring friends. “Only if you are, my friend,” he teased fondly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a gentle squeeze. “But the evidence speaks to that,” he continued, tugging on one of her half-undone braids, “so _yes_.”

Tauriel sighed, pushing him slightly away when he sniffed the air tellingly, failing at controlling the heat in her cheeks. “You are simply jealous that you have no lady-love of your own,” she asserted, grinning at the way he spluttered in response, mock-scowling at her.

“Lies and slander, Lieutenant,” he replied haughtily, suddenly every inch his Adar’s son, until the aloof mask cracked into a familiar smile.

“Oh?” Tauriel wondered, tapping her bottom lip with a finger. “So there _is_ a lady…” she teased him. The light flush he couldn’t quite hide at the words surprised her.

“No, Tauri,” Legolas said, “ _my_ head has not been turned by an Imladris lovely.”

“None of them good enough for you, hmm?” Tauriel laughed, bumping him with her shoulder. “Or worried they wouldn’t have a rogue such as you?”

“Oof! Those are fighting words,” he warned her, a playful smirk flirting with his lips. “I would worry that so much pleasure has addled your mind…” Pausing dramatically, he added, “but I suppose we shall see in the field.”

Tauriel’s grin widened. “It’s been some time since we’ve had a match…” she nodded, opening the door to her own room. “Let me get dressed and fetch my bow, and I’ll meet you by the starting line.”

“Done,” he replied, walking away.

“Legolas?” Tauriel called, turning back on the threshold.

He stopped, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Legolas nodded, giving her a cheeky wink and a smile before he continued down the hall, humming one of his silly songs.

Tauriel's smile never wavered as she dressed herself, slipping on her leather armour before leaving her room, bow in hand and wondering if she might entice Lírien to come watch her trounce Faindirn on the obstacle course; the odds on her against Legolas were pretty even, but she was certain she would be able to best the probably-hungover scout with ease… maybe win herself a few more kisses as a reward?

Tauriel whistled a small tune to herself as she walked through the corridors, nipping into the kitchen to steal a buttered currant bun from Maeassel.

It was good to be home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have marked this complete but planned to continue this, I simply haven't had any time to work on it during the past week...


End file.
